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King Deladius
<-- back to powers A Long Forgotten Tale “Madame Circeus enters the high throne room of King Deladius,” bellowed the herald as he bowed to the incoming guest. She was a frail old thing, hunched below the weight of her own cloak. The staccato clack of her walking stick punctuated her steps and echoed off the far walls of the enormous throne room, and as she crossed the distance, a trail of moistness from her drenched form followed her. “Fare thee well, madame,” the king lazily announced as he settled into his throne a bit more. “I will hear your words on this day.” The crone took a deep breath then, and her voice filled the vast space, “King Deladius. It is for the people of Tortuga that I speak today. Your people. As sure as the sun rose this day there is a famine in the kingdom. Men sacrifice their meals just to feed their wives, and the anemic bodies of the children are picked clean of all sustenance before they are returned to the earth. Hear the pleas of your people, and empty the castle's coffers for food.” “You overstep your bounds, hag,” the king announced as he leaned forward. “It is the duty of myself and the royal treasurer to determine what the coffers are used for. My vizier has advised me not to empty them on this occasion. This famine is a condition that shall pass in time, and with the weak weeded out my kingdom, and that of my posterity, shall thrive.” At this the woman removed her hood. The white wisps of hair that framed her face matched the hue of her knuckles as she gripped her staff for support. Her voice was raised once again, “These 'weaklings' are the men who built the castle you now reside in! Can they not rely upon their king in this time of need?” “Nay!” Deladius shouted as he stood, “The men were paid at the end of their labor, as was the agreement. The subjects of this kingdom are yet strong; they need not be coddled by their king.” The king waved his hand, and a company of nearby guards approached the woman to take her away. “To those who require such aide I say nay. A thousand times I say nay.” “Indeed you shall,” muttered the crone. She then raised her staff and struck the floor with the tip one time. “I curse you, King Deladius, son of Deladius. I hereby curse you and your wicked castle!” And then, as if gripped by some unseeable seraph, the guards froze. “What is the meaning of this, witch? Cease this dissidence or suffer the consequences!” “No 'fair' king, it is you who shall suffer.” Again, the woman struck the ground with the tip of her staff, now twice. “By the Matron and Coyote, I sacrifice my life as blood payment for this curse. Take my ancient body that my will might live on to the end of time.” Now three times, her stick connected with the floor. “By the Matron may this castle, the cause of suffering for so many, be lost at sea. May it be forgotten, and may its name fail upon the tongue of those who would form it. By Coyote may Deladius and his court be punished and imprisoned for their most grievous sins.” As she finished the incantation, the hag produced a small soapstone figurine of a horse. It had been carefully carved by the last of her age-old family line, a child who succumbed to hunger three days prior. As it dropped from her weakening grasp, the king choked and pitched forward. His body slid down the stairs leading to his throne and laid there now lifeless and empty. The tiny horse figurine contained his soul now, and does to this day. As madame Circeus fell to her knees, the guards and members of the court began to twist into animalistic forms. Their new bodies a mockery of their former status. Then as life left the crone's body she smiled one last time. The castle began to shake, and outside the terrain was torn asunder as a massive turtle emerged from the earth itself, the proud castle resting neatly on its back. As it stepped off the nearby shore and into the brine, the woman's body was reduced to mist, forever to conceal the new island from the eyes of those would would encounter it. That occurred almost nine hundred years ago today. The memory of the event has been lost in the folds of history. Though the curse was powerful indeed, the invocation of lineage binds the bloodline of Deladius to the castle. He was thought to be without a son, but an illegitimate child was conceived before the curse was invoked. Today, there lives a single, distant, descendant of the king, a contractor of the games, unknowledgable of his link to the island on which he now resides. He is a man who is attuned to the spaces between life and death, the sole veteran survivor of a decade of games that saw the death of at least one other high-roller per outing. There is no man more familiar with loss, and after years of absence the Powers That Be call upon him again. The master of death side. Bernard. Mechanics Deladius is mechanically a retainer. The gift is actually a soapstone statue of a horse that allows Deladius to be summoned. If Deladius is destroyed, Bernard must wait 24 hours to summon him again. If the Soapstone statue of the horse is destroyed, the retainer is lost forever. This can be remedied with the signature item background. The prison is fueled by the magic of Coyote (The great trickster and teacher spirit) directly. It is unlikely that the curse will be unwoven or that the figurine will lose its power. Deladius has sworn himself to Bernard's service (treat this as a powerful bond). He was told that if he serves Bernard faithfully he will have his kingship and castle restored. It is up to Danny whether he talks or not, but I suggest it. Appearance: A large, black, horse with glowing blue eyes and ghostly trials. It is very otherworldly, and when he runs the hoofsteps seem somewhat muted. He has a long flowing silky mane and tail. Deladius is rideable without a saddle. Deladius has had many years to ponder his situation and the reason behind his curse. He has changed a lot since he was a human, and is now much more kind. He still hates being a horse, though, and he hates being trapped within a figurine even more. He likes being called and treated as a king, but would never go against Bernard's wishes (as a result of the blood bond). He might not like nicknames (like Hot Spur), but he will respond to them if Bernard gives them.